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acid-ixx · 4 months ago

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brutus: both arms cradle you now (villain au concept)

ft. yandere! harley quinn (brief mentions of the poison ivy and catwoman) x gn villain! reader

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

"so, you're saying you hate the batman, for personal reasons, cupcake?"

you've never expected to have a therapy session with one of your mentors who took you in.

harley quinn, the girl who took you into her abode right after she found you bloodied and laying in a crimson bath of your own one faithful night; death your only comfort.

she, alongside her other company, are well-known people within gotham's criminal gallery. she's known to be obsessed with her ex back then, chasing after his toxic love despite hers being consistently thrown away, she's been seen fighting, or even sometimes helping your father when he's wearing the cowl just to find the joker, she dons clown makeup and displays athletic talent for combat—

she's not the type you'd expect to be well-versed with a person's mental health, with her playful attitude and bouncy steps, but with the way she notices your uncomfortable body language whenever you stumble upon the bat, or how you simmer in silent rage watching him care for his vigilante partners during times they get injured; you'd have to admit she's more than qualified to ask you sensitive questions nobody ought to ask a violent criminal like you.

you don't know it, but you share far more similarities with the girl than you thought; chasing after love never once reciprocated, she has every right to know what makes you so triggered seeing the vigilante every damn time he's within the vicinity.

she has every right because she's the one who saved you when you thought your life would be all over.

when you believed that that day would be the time your soul would leave your body, you'd suddenly awoke to her gentle coos and her retelling her company on how she stumbled upon you. and another woman's palms are on your heated forehead, an unnatural shade of green, yet she helps swipes away your hair for your head as she listens intently to harley's story; she gazes at you just as softly as the other. she's seated right beside a familiar face, too, with cropped, jet-black hair and cat-eyes. it was her expensive duvet that you lay on.

it was there that they coddled you collectively.

they've been your saviors then, and your mentors ever since. it's what you've never asked for, to be cared for by criminals who fought on the opposite side from your fathers, but you've been craving affection your entire life that you'd never once complain about.

now, in the same apartment, her question lingers in the back of your head, you feel goosebumps rise on the topmost layer of your skin, and your heartbeats hasten against the cage of your chest.

despite that, she merely looks over at you, her eyes held a calculating gaze. it's not exactly nerve-wracking like batman's whenever you had your occasional encounters with him, but you can tell she's psychoanalyzing every aspect of your being.

like a therapist for most, but to you, she does so because you know she cares.

gone was the ditzy smile she likes to wear on her playful lips, or the active, bouncy lilt she has whenever she sits upon the swivel chair to talk to you. she stares at you, with piercing blue eyes and furrowed brows, nitpicking every reaction you conjure.

it seems like now's the time she wants to open up with such a sensitive topics.

especially right after the incident where you cried after watching batman speak to the youngest robin, with the sweetest, most poisonous tone you've ever heard from the man. it makes you want to vomit watching it, makes you wish to shrivel outside-in your costume and burn until you're mere embers.

you ask yourself, 'do i hate him?'

truth is...

god, you wish you do. but you're different now.

you have new people to care for you, now and you'd rather throw away that heart wrenching life you had back in the past. batman is nobody to you now, you wish you could lead yourself to believe that he was just your usual opponent, nothing more, nothing less.

yet you merely shift on your cushioned seat, ignoring the blaring telltale signs in your head to stay silent, and reply to her albeit the unsureness in your tone. your words taste bitter, sour, salty, and no way sweet. every unpleasant flavor swirls in your tongue in a cacophony of emotions; and you wish to cry the longer you speak, tongue-tied and wishing to will away the ache in your chest.

"i don't hate him, harley, at least not anymore... it's different, i don't know what to feel about him. maybe it's rage, maybe i want to exact petty revenge on him because of my past with him. don't know. it's all complicated..."

"if it's not hatred, then it's something else, no? you feel something deep within for him, don'tcha, sweetheart? you can't lie to me, you're hurt, and scarred, because of him and his other vigilante partners, i can tell."

she replies, quicker than you do, with empathy and comfort laced in every syllable of her words, and you're taken aback at the kindness and understanding. your eyes flutter away from her worried ones, and you look down to your clenched palms and feel the callouses from all the harsh training you've conditioned yourself to endure, dismissing the way she stands from her chair to walk over to you.

hurt... that's true. you're hurt, and all the emotional scars that lay within you are still open, bleeding, and it aches deeply. every time you build new memories with these people, the pain of the past overpowers whatever improvement you make in life; as if it's haunting and taunting you.

when she kneels down to the level of your lap, just right beneath your vision so you could see her beyond the layers of hair that cover your watery eyes, you see her soft gaze and find her dainty fingers holding your palms, ones you didn't notice dig nails deep into skin until the rivulets of blood escape.

when she squeezes your hands, you follow along the patterns of inhaling and exhaling through her squeezing, a silent session with her to help you calm down from your foreboding emotions; your hastened breaths and brimming tears. you've been so used to ignoring all your emotions that you forget what panic attacks felt like in so long, not until you discover that you've been having small bouts of it every day; not until you realize how it's always your mentors comforting you through every one of your silent sufferings instead of ridiculing you for it.

"calm down, cupcake... i just wanted to know why, so i, alongside the girls, could help you through your emotions. what type of mentors are we if we can't help you, no? you've been so tense lately, we couldn't even see your cute, little smile these days. so don't forget you're still allowed to cry, sweetie... let all your emotions out, 'kay?"

she speaks, with a gentle timbre in her voice, and you allow her to embrace your form, one you didn't realize was shivering until now. yet you still bury your head further into her body without shame and allow yourself respite for once; allow yourself autonomy to be controlled by repressed pain and sorrow you've tried to bury deep into the marrows of your bones and the cages of your heart.

and now you realize why, why you're all crying all the same like last time, and you simply cry for longer at the realization.

because what contrasts with love, was indifference, and never hatred. you once loved batman, bruce, with all your heart because you're his kid, and your momma taught you to love without any expectations. but he sees you with indifference, with nothingness. no care, no emotions or opinions about you, unlike harley's who holds you in her arms and comforts you throughout your lengthened crying.

he doesn't even look at you. the thought bothers you more than ever.

"it's— you're right," you whisper through your hiccups, burying your head further on her stomach as her right hand plays with the strands of your hair, scratching your scalp in a comfortable pattern. she hums as a reply, and allows you to continue.

"i'm hurt, harley... it's so painful just thinking... thinking about how much i'm in pain because of him... but he's, he's—"

"shh, you don't have to force yourself to open up anymore, sweetheart."

when she releases her hold on you, you let out an embarrassingly loud cry, hands swiftly trying to pull her back to embrace you; too desperate to let go, too paranoid that this is all a dream, you wish to sink into her warmth forever.

but she holds you back, just as quickly with her warm palms at your wet cheeks, and looks at you. like you're her savior, her peace, and her everything.

her next sentences satiate the foreboding hunger in your heart, one too starved, one that craved and wished to take what it never have.

she feeds you with love and affection too sweet that it rids the bitter taste in the back of your throat and the bile that slowly rises every time you reminisce.

"i get'cha, sweetie. you wanted something from him you can never have, and when he didn't give you that, it destroyed you entirely you felt like you can never pick yourself right back. been there, done that—"

"—but look at where we're both at now! living the best of our lives, doing fun, risky heists and making ourselves happy with what we think is good for us, no? you get where i'm getting at, right?"

you don't. you feel like melting into her hands and never leaving. she gives and you take, take, and take everything she offers you.

and she knows you don't understand, so she continues rambling knowing you'd grasp into every word she says, not once breaking eye contact with you. she stares fondly, you gaze back reluctantly, unaccustomed to the affection your mentors shower you with. but you don't pull back, she becomes sad and sulky when you do.

you want her to be happy.

"sweetheart, i'm telling you the past is past! get him away from your mind and throw all the thoughts about him away! if you were nothing to him, then he should be nothing to you, easy as pie."

"you deserve better people in your life, like me, and pam, and selina. i can tell you're rough around the edges but that doesn't mean you should strip yourself away from any privilege to be cared for and loved for by people who love you as much as you love them. he's nothing to you now, alright? it's painful, but you can move on from him. i trust you can— you know why?"

harley questions you, with all the confidence in her tone, taking your head to lay it on her body again, positioning it so you could hear the buzz heartbeat, you bury yourself deeper into her warm body and nuzzle into fabric. your heart hastens, but it wasn't panic, it wasn't even fear or hurt, but a drive and motivation that burns deep inside of you; that this is what you always wanted, and needed to protect, and what she generously provided.

all her words echo through your head like it's the truth, your holy grail.

"you have us now, sweetheart. to love, to guide, and to protect you. we're everything you need now."

and you believe her like she's god.

just this once, you do. you're allowed to hope, to dream, and to finally feel special. to be embraced like the fantasies you had in the past, to be held and comforted through every gut wrenching experience, just as she does, now.

for once, you allow yourself to be loved, even if it means it's by the same hands that stain itself with blood, all shed in the glory of your name.

a/n: happy halloween! i was laying in bed and suddenly had thoughts about this. i don't like this drabble at all ngl erm 😭 this post is related to events prior to the out for blood chapter (idk if i should make it canon to the plot or not) and what i said in this fanart post. despite this not being my favorite piece of work, i like writing about other charactersn too though, especially when they're so soft to the mc. so yeah! if you guys like more of this, please do comment since idk what to feel about this.

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animasola86 · 3 months ago

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F o r g e t f u l 🎀 1 / 4

Your roommate has a dirty secret - you. The only problem is: you can't remember anything about that. And there might be even more problems when you realize just what kind of relationship you have with her.

a dominant woman X a submissive girl with a memory problem

WARNINGS: F!Reader-insert! NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Mistress/pet. Domme/sub. Memory loss. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Praise kink. Dubcon elements. Fingering. Sex toys. Object insertion. Bondage. (More tags on AO3.) WORDS: 5.5k

A/N: Remember: if these tags are not for you, you better turn back now! If you know my other stories, you may be used to my very explicit writing style, but this is still some of the darker stuff, somewhat. It's rough, but there is an actual wlw story buried beneath the depravity, I swear! And: THIS IS FICTION! Nobody got hurt in the making of this series. (By the way, the header is just for aesthetics, it's up to you to decide how Mistress looks like and obviously Reader looks however you want to insert her. I tried my best to keep her neutral.) Another note on the fandom tags: I write characters who could be anyone, so I thought about some kick-ass ladies who may fit the role here. I'm sorry this is not about your favorite character, but maybe it can still somewhat fit? Give it a try :)

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

You're staring at the pictures with your lips parted and trembling, your cheeks warm, a strange tingle in your nape. Your hands are shaking as you file through the prints. They look weirdly professional, good lighting, even better angles, the background is blurry while the focus lies directly on...

You.

It's you in those photographs, you in various positions, you in different outfits... or with nothing at all hiding your curves. Some pictures are just showing certain body parts, some angles you've never seen of yourself, some more flattering than others.

But whatever you see, you can't hide the fact that it arouses you. It's not the subject, you're usually quite self-conscious about taking nudes of yourself (even though you gotta admit that these look quite well made, so surreal that you feel almost proud of yourself), it's actually two things that make your core throb:

One: you are in clearly compromising positions, bent over with your legs spread wide, on your back, bound to the bed with cuffs around your wrists and ankles, or tied up with soft-looking rope in intricate patterns, your body composed in ways you haven't thought possible (or comfortable).

And two: you are always stuffed. There are various objects sticking out of both your cunt and your ass, sometimes there's even something in your mouth that's held open by a spider gag. It varies too, not all holes are occupied all the time, all at once, in some pictures it's just one and it's particularly stuffed and stretched (is that an eggplant?).

Your body reacts more and more as you flip through the thick printed paper. The worst thing about it all:

You can't remember a goddamn thing!

Shame and arousal course through you as you stare at yourself. But you can't put them down, can't stop. In this photo, you're wearing a black leather harness that accentuates your breasts. You're standing, with wide legs, a spreader bar attached to your ankles. You're blindfolded, your arms tied behind your back. It's a series of pictures, you realize.

First from the front, then from the back (your ass cheeks look great with how they're pushed up by the leather straps). You notice something shiny between them: a butt plug with a sparkly diamond base. It's glowing, or blinking as you see in the next picture where the light is gone.

Your insides convulse a little, your muscles clenching around nothing. It's like looking at porn, but you can't ignore the familiarity about the body portrayed. It is undoubtedly yours.

But then again: you've never had anything up your ass, not in your conscious state at least. But here (and in those other pics) you have, and the next print even shows a close-up of the plug in your ass. It's a strangely aesthetic photo considering the unflattering motif and angle, but it certainly does things to you. Though you can't be sure if the tension in your stomach comes from embarrassment, excitement or sheer terror at the revelation that somebody took these pictures of you – and you can't even remember it.

Swallowing hard, you pry your eyes from the prints, your hands still shaking, as you look around the room. Somebody can only be one person. Your gaze scrapes over the shelves around you, full of camera equipment, old-fashioned film containers next to a plastic box full of SD-cards, various lenses and other extras, and then the cameras themselves, three at least, behind glass doors, kept away, like the pictures you found in a large brown envelope hiding in a drawer.

You've been looking for some hair ties, an innocent search, knowing your roommate wouldn't mind, but now you feel as if you've stepped into a different world, uncovering secrets you should have never known about. Even if they are about you.

Taking a shuddering breath, you look back at the pictures in your hands, your cheeks positively aflame now as you trace the blurry lines of your body before the focus shifts to a close-up of your cunt, shiny and reddened, your clit swollen, with black clamps attached to your pussy lips, thin metal chains disappearing off to the sides, holding your folds open while something black and girthy vanishes into your body.

The next pictures show a white-gloved hand gripping the base of the dildo, and you flip quicker through the sheets to create the motion, seeing the toy going in and out of your cunt, guided by the anonymous hand, spreading your core, diving in to retreat with an extra layer of shine before disappearing again, and as you stare at the prints, you can almost feel it moving inside you, a faint memory as your muscles clench and unclench, your arousal building up before it drips into your underwear.

You are torn between being very horny upon seeing these pictures and utterly disturbed. If you could only remember these scenes, then it wouldn't be as bad. But you can't. There's nothing, only fog that slips through your mind's imaginary fingers as you try to catch it, as you try to make sense of this. You feel your heart beating faster while your eyes tear up from staring unblinkingly at the prints in your hands.

This can't be real. Confusion merges with betrayal, your belly feels tense, your heart clenches in rhythm with your walls, your throat closes up as the first tear spills from your lashes.

You let go of the pictures, watching them scatter over the desk and down to the floor, every angle of your body on display, every inch captured in embarrassing detail, your holes filled or gaping, your mouth gagged or stuffed or open, there's drool, there are tears, there's wetness glistening on your skin in almost every shot. Your eyes may be the scariest part staring up at you. They're either glazed over, unfocused, or rolled back and hooded, some bloodshot, some watery, and some look almost defiant, a moment captured in time where you seemingly fought back?

The ones where you're blindfolded are the least terrifying, those are the ones where you can dissociate, where you can imagine somebody else being tied to whatever surfaces there are, tables, benches, beds, chairs, artfully presented, where it's just a body, clad in sexy lingerie and high heels, or adorned with ropes, or in the moments after where the skin is dented by the intricate patterns left behind by the ties.

The close-ups are also getting to you. You've never seen your own cunt or ass up close like this, so again, it could be anyone's holes filled and spread and used by various objects. The sheer amount and variety of them is quite concerning. But it's the unconventional ones that make you shiver, that create that tension in your stomach. The cucumber pushed deep into your ass so only its thinner stalk or whatever its called pokes out. The wide eggplant parting your labia in an obscene fashion, its entire body stuffed into your cunt, creating a slight bulge in your lower stomach.

There's another stack of photos atop a large envelope (the whole drawer seems to be dedicated to just you), and your curiosity gets the better of you after all. It's a series of pictures showing different round objects pushed into your holes. From marbles to ping pong balls to actual tennis balls, they're all shown vanishing into either your ass or your cunt, pushed by a delicate finger clad in a white glove, one after the other, and you can only assume how many would actually fit. It's not a video, you can't be sure, but you can imagine whoever did this to you didn't stop at just one.

Indeed they didn't, as the next photo shows. Another set of hands, also wearing white gloves, is grabbing your ass cheeks and pulling them apart, making your sphincter wink at the camera, before, in the next shot, your hole is gaping, allowing a strange view inside, rosy flesh stuffed with white little balls (you can see at least three, but more are hinted at behind them). You feel a little sick looking at the rest of the series of pictures, where they come back out as your hole puckers, pushing and pushing.

Your body reacts in earnest, your muscles clenching around nothing, deep shivers crashing down your spine. You flip past more of these kinds of photos, until you stop when you see white-gloved fingers poking at your cunt, spreading your lips, gathering your slick that glistens on the surface of the latex gloves, and you let out an audible gasp when the next picture doesn't show them push in, but shows only a wrist (attached to a slender arm) poking out of your stretched hole, gripped by tight skin, suggesting the entire hand is stuck inside you.

Your stomach gives a nervous growl at the sight, your breath hitching in your throat. You swallow thickly, your nostrils flaring as you force yourself to breathe through your nose to calm yourself. The stack of pictures shakes in your hands as you flip through more extreme insertions, more vegetables, some fruits, an entire apple made it up your cunt apparently, while they went from using one cucumber in your ass to at least three, stretching your rim impossibly wide. The sight alone makes your asshole clench violently, and you wonder why you never felt sore after being stuffed so full and spread so wide.

But your body seemingly adjusted, returned to its former state, unharmed, giving no hints at what actually happened to you. Strange. It's almost as if this happened to somebody else after all. But it didn't. It is your body. You may not know your cunt or ass up close, but you recognize the rest, your boobs, your arms, your belly, your legs, your feet, the birthmarks that make you you. It is you in these pictures, in every single one.

Only you.

A strangled sob escapes you as you look over the desk, seeing more and more envelopes, hiding in plain sight, more prints, some smaller, some bigger, all filled with motifs of your body being used in various fashions, one more degrading than the next. Shame settles low in your stomach, like a heavy weight that makes it hard to breathe. Your head is spinning, blood rushing in your ears so loudly you are startled back into reality as you suddenly hear the creaking of the door.

Footsteps follow, before someone clears their throat.

You whip around, dropping the last pictures you were holding, more shots of your stuffed cunt, wet and glistening as it's assaulted by more household items. Your eyes widen when you see your roommate in the door frame, a smug smile on her beautiful face as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Oh hi,” she says in a nonchalant tone, tilting her head. “What are you doing here, pet?” she adds, and you frown at the nickname, a strange sensation crashing through your nerves.

“I... uh... I was looking for...” you stammer, taking a step away from the desk and the mess you made by dropping all those prints. “A hair tie,” you whisper breathlessly, curling your shaking hands into fists as you stare at her. “What... what are these? Did you take them?” you then ask, your voice trembling as much as your shoulders while you look from her back to the discriminating evidence you found by accident.

Your roommate sighs, unfolding her arms as she walks towards you. She's taller than you, slender and still curvy in the right places, her long hair falling over her slim shoulders. You force yourself to look into her eyes and not get distracted by the cleavage her tight dress creates or how close she is. She stops right in front of you, looking down, a softer looking smile curling her full lips.

“You know I did,” she says quietly, reaching up a hand to caress your cheek with the back of her finger. You shiver under the touch, but don't flinch away. “You agreed to this, remember?”

“No,” you breathe out, blinking quickly as you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

She clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Shh, it's okay, pet, don't worry. You did. I would never do anything to harm you,” she whispers, leaning closer until you feel her hot breath on your lips. “You wanted to be my muse, you begged me for it,” she adds, biting her lip sensually before leaning in to press her warm mouth to the corner of yours.

You stiffen, eyes widening, your heart nearly exploding in your chest. You can't remember any of this. Why is she saying that? She is just your roommate!

You moved in only a few months ago, replying to an ad you saw on the bulletin board of your college dorm. A cheap room in a good neighborhood, your own room, away from the distractions of having to live with people you don't like or know that well, it sounded too good to be true. But it was true, and the woman looking for roommates was so nice, so enticing. You met her at a neutral place, to get to know her (fall for her charm), before she showed you the apartment, and you moved in later that week.

It was perfect. Until it wasn't. Not that you noticed it right away. You just never saw her. Now that you thought about it, you can only (barely) remember going to your classes (you are still going to your classes, right?), while the rest of the day is somewhat of a blur. You can't, however, remember going to your job at the coffee shop (do you still have a job? How are you paying for this place?), and the more you try to remember, the more holes come up, black and all-consuming.

You frown as you stare at her. She leans back slowly, watching you. Her hand is on your face, the pointy nail of her thump scraping over your bottom lip as her long fingers caress the shell of your ear.

“No need to worry, pet,” she says quietly, her voice a low soft thrum, rich like honey, that tickles something inside you that you've fought all your life. Why does she keep calling you 'pet'? And why does it affect you so much? “Everything is just fine. And I'm not even mad that you just went into my room like this. I told you you shouldn't, didn't I?”

You swallow as she lowers her hand and closes it around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. You feel your pulse throbbing against her palm. “I'm sorry,” you gasp out.

She smiles at you, moving her hand even lower, teasing her fingertips along the neckline of your shirt. “It's okay. You know the consequences. It'll be fine.” You furrow your eyebrows, breathing harder, not understanding anything. “Not the first time, hm?” she adds, giving you a wink. Her words make no sense, your head is hurting with how tight you pull your eyebrows together, and with all the thoughts and questions whirling about in a wild dance of confusion.

“I... I don't –”

“Shh,” she shushes you, her hand gripping your chin. You freeze. “Be a good pet and go back to your room. I'll clean this up. Put on the clothes I chose for you. Wait for me when you're done. Do you understand?”

You stare at her, your body tensing up, your cunt clenching hard around nothing. Her words, the cadence of her voice, the dominant tone, it all brings you to do one thing, your mind emptying as words spill from your trembling lips. “Yes, Mistress.”

You don't even know where these came from. Mistress? Pet? What is going on? But your body moves on auto-pilot, your mind swirling, still fighting the confusion, but also easing into a strange void, triggered by words you've heard before, or so it feels, commands you've answered many times in the past.

She lets go of your chin, giving you a warm smile, even though her eyes are dark and somewhat cold, and you nod, bow your head and shuffle out of the room, your legs trembling as you make your way back into your bedroom across the hall.

For a moment you're wondering how you got here, why you're here, but then your gaze falls onto a pile of clothes on your bed. You walk closer, picking up item after item. A short black skirt, pleated, barely long enough to not be considered a belt. A tight tank top, white and almost see-through. A set of fancy black underwear, a lace bra with an intricate flower pattern, a thong of similar design. There's also a pair of sheer black stockings, a garter belt and straps to attach each piece together.

Your stomach tenses at the sight. You've seen these pieces before, in the photos you shouldn't have seen. It's a blur how you put them on, your head spinning, your hands shaking, but you still somehow manage to dress in time before you hear footsteps on the floorboards outside your room. Your heart beats faster, your chest heaving, tight in the bra and top, straining, something cold crashing down your spine before it gathers hot and pulsing right between your legs.

Before the creaking of the door announces your roommate, you suddenly fall to your knees, your feet tucked under your rear, your hands automatically finding purchase in your lap, folded neatly as you stretch your back and square your shoulders, breathing deep as you train your eyes straight ahead, waiting for the door to open. You have no idea what made you assume this position, why it feels so familiar, so safe in a way.

Your roommate (your Mistress) enters your bedroom, her high heels thudding over the carpet as she walks up to you, tilting her head as she watches you closely. “Stand,” she says, and you do, your legs moving seemingly on their own. Once you stand, stiff with your arms pressed to your sides, chest pushed out, your neck straight, eyes wandering over the tall frame in front of you, she nods. “See? You haven't forgotten. Good girl,” she says, and the praise shoots through you like a pistol shot, straight into your clit, making it throb and ache, your heart beating in the same hurried rhythm.

She walks around you then, her long fingers brushing over your bare arms, around your shoulders, down your spine, until she gives your ass a soft slap, making you gasp quietly. She repeats the motion, but this time, she leaves her hand on your cheek for a moment, squeezing it, her fingernails digging into your soft skin. You stiffen, breathing a little harder.

“You're so beautiful,” she whispers as she leans into you, looming behind you, her breath ghosting your jaw. “My perfect little muse.”

You feel her lips brushing against the soft spot behind your ear, a hot kiss that makes you shiver, while her hand gropes your ass, fingertips teasing at the thin fabric of your thong tucked between your cheeks.

Suddenly she leans back, lets go of you, and you hear her walking a few steps before she stops, a deep sigh echoing through the room. You turn around slowly, unsure if you should, but when you do, you freeze as you watch her pick up the glass of water on your bedside table.

“Baby, I told you to drink more,” she says with a tilt of her head. “You always forget, hm? So busy, head always in the clouds...” She walks back to you, holding the glass in front of you, her eyes boring into yours as she waits for you to grab it. You do, your hands shaking. “Drink up, pretty girl. You know you need it.”

She's so caring, you think as you bring the water to your lips, holding her gaze, but as soon as you feel the cold liquid running down your tight throat, an image flickers before your eyes. Your roommate (Mistress) sitting on your bed, moving a clear glass straw in a stirring motion, swirling the water, making a faint sheen of powder disappear. You feel as if you've watched her do that many times. What is that? What did she put in here? Vitamins? Or something else?

But you can't even question it further, can't find the courage to ask, when you realize you've drank the whole thing, every drop of water (and whatever else was in there) now in your stomach. “Good girl,” she praises and smiles at you, before she takes the glass from your clammy fingers and puts it back on your bedside table. “Now let's get you ready for our big night out, yeah?”

You frown, another faint memory peeking through the fog in your head. It seems to be getting thicker now. Strange. But this image, you still see somewhat clearly before you. You had plans tonight, you remember now, you wanted to go out. Where? No idea. But you needed a hair tie. Yeah. That's why you went into your roommate's room in the first place. Some details are blurry (were you supposed to go out with her? Have you done that before? Why would you? You barely know the woman...), but somehow they don't matter anymore.

She steps back in front of you, her fingers vanishing in the cleavage of her dress before she pulls something from between her breasts. You blink in confusion as you recognize the shape. It's a metal butt plug. And she stored it between her boobs? Interesting.

“Open wide, pet,” she tells you, and without even questioning it, you part your lips and let your tongue roll out. She looks pleased as she puts the rounded object into your mouth. It's warm, and the taste triggers something else in you. Another familiar sensation. It's her, you know without knowing, her taste, sweet and a bit salty, exploding on your tongue, sinking deep, causing soft shivers to crash down your spine, something hot gathering low in your gut.

You've had your face on her chest before, huh? Must be. Your cheeks burn up badly, your breaths loud through your nose as you suckle on the butt plug between your lips, your eyes scanning the pretty face looking down at you. She keeps her fingers on the base, pushing the object in and out, and you find yourself licking around it, coating it in your saliva. Like you've done before. You think.

She watches you before she lets go of the plug and puts her palm over your mouth. “Keep it nice and warm for me, okay?” she says, leaning closer until her nose brushes against yours. You give a jerking nod, tightening your lips around the narrowest part of the plug while its body rests hard and heavy on your tongue. “Good.”

You feel saliva pooling in your mouth, and the urge to swallow becomes stronger. But you focus on the woman in front of you as she straightens up again, her hands on her hips. Her whole presence, her aura, has you in its grip, you feel, it's impossible to fight it, to protest, to do anything except the things she demands of you. All it takes is a look, a word, her voice driving through you like an electric current that controls your every limb.

And so you move when she tells you to turn around and bend over, and as you rest on your forearms on the edge of your bed, she nudges your legs apart and steps between them, her hands sliding under your skirt and pushing it up. You stiffen slightly, breathing harder, your heart thundering inside your chest, but you can't object, you don't want to. You just endure.

And a tiny part of you, through the fog in your head, lights up, a growing heat that creeps down your spine, tenses in your stomach, seeps lower until it gathers in your core, scorching, wet, and it's all you feel when she pushes your thong aside and moves her fingers along your slit, dipping gently between your puffy lips and into your slick, the loud squelching noise making your ears burn.

She prods at your entrance, teases your clit, but then she moves up again, and without warning or command or reassuring words pokes right against your puckered hole, and as you gasp around the plug in your mouth, flinching slightly, she stretches your rim and pushes into your ass, a slim finger, a pointy fingernail, digging against your tense muscles. In and out it goes until there are two fingers, then three, and it burns, the friction too much, like little daggers poking at your nerves.

“Come on, pet, relax,” she says from behind you, moving her fingers deeper, curling them, pushing and prodding against protesting muscles. “You've done this before. You're a pro at this, remember?”

Her words bring up the hazy memories of the pictures you saw, of the various items wedged into your tight ass, and some just don't make sense. Three cucumbers? Really? While it already feels like too much when she 'only' has three slim fingers inside you? How did you manage that? Your stomach gives a distant growl as drool slips past your tight lips and onto your bed.

“Fine, I'll lube you up this time,” she sighs and removes her fingers with a strangely wet pop. This time? She doesn't usually? It's almost as if you can remember the pain of the dry friction, but then why can you never remember any soreness afterwards? Confusion lingers on your mind as you hear her footsteps leaving the room.

You remain in your bent-over position, your hands clawing at the sheets as you suckle mindlessly on the metal plug in your mouth, trying to make sense of it all. You come to no conclusion whatsoever when she eventually returns, and you hear the squirt of some liquid before you can feel it. Large dollops of something cold pressing against your tight hole. You groan against the object between your lips as she pushes deeper, her fingers, slick and cold, sliding in and out again.

This time she stretches your hole by scissoring her fingers, knuckles digging into your tense muscles, and you hear another squirt and something cold lands on your hot skin, slipping right into you. You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your exposed skin. She keeps doing that, filling you up with more and more lube, you assume, her fingers pushing it deep, coating your insides. It's a strange sensation, but again, this feels somewhat familiar, and triggers more memories you seem to have suppressed before, or forgotten.

You see yourself strapped to a reclining chair, your legs raised up in some sort of stirrups, ankles tied and wrists bound to the armrests. You're naked, and she is kneeling between your wide open legs in front of a large plastic bucket or something like it, and there's a tube inside your ass, something cold (water?) pressing through it and into you, and you see and feel it filling you up, your stomach bulging, and you feel sick, your insides cramping, but you can't say anything, there's a gag in your mouth, so all you can do is squirm in your restraints, until you feel a different sort of pain as she slaps your mound with a force that makes you cry out, makes you flinch remembering it, and she keeps at it, hitting your clit with precise blows until it's all puffy and throbbing badly, and you throw your head back and whine helplessly, your belly still bulging, filling up, while her voice coos into your ear:

“You want to be clean, pet, don't you? So we gotta clean you up properly. You don't want to be dirty for our guests, now do you?”

You frown deeply as those words echo in your cloudy head. Guests? But the question vanishes slowly, replaced by the sensation of her fingers digging deep into your ass, spreading more lube, and in the back of your mind you're just glad she isn't giving you another enema. A strange thought to have, but it makes sense in the dizziness that holds you hostage. Breathing harder, you press your forehead into the bed, swallowing hard around the plug in your mouth.

As she works on (in) your ass, you start to feel a tingle in your neglected pussy, a spasm deep within, a little clench, a needy little urge, and instead of holding still, you find yourself grinding your rear into her hand. She stops immediately, a deep sigh escaping her as she pulls her fingers out of your ass and grips your nape with her wet hand. You shiver and stiffen, holding your breath as she pulls you into a standing position.

Her free hand grabs the base of the plug and pulls it out of your mouth where it clangs against your teeth, causing you to flinch. You swallow the excess spit and take a shuddering breath as you feel the warm metal pressing between your ass cheeks. With how she worked you open, it slips in easily enough, and your muscles clench slightly around its narrow neck, but it's only after she smacks your soft cheek a few times in rapid succession, making you whine and shudder as your skin tightens, that you're tensing up enough to hold it in place.

She lets go of you and spins you around, then holds out her hand to you, her fingers glistening in lube and your own wetness. “Clean,” she says, and even though your stomach makes a loud grumble of protest, you find yourself leaning in and closing your lips around her slim fingers. A strange taste of artificial strawberry and something else, something tangy and your own, floods your senses, but you close your eyes and flick your tongue around her digits, focusing on the task and not on the taste and the origin of it.

Eventually she pulls her hand away and pats your cheek, leaving a trail of saliva on your warm skin. Your eyes flutter open as she leans around you and adjusts your thong, pulling it back in place, then pushes your skirt down again. Her eyes meet yours, the gaze intense, creating another soothing wave of heat that rolls over you gently, that makes you clench around the plug in your butt. A smile grazes her full lips, and you find yourself smiling back.

“Alright, now put your hair up, get your shoes and your coat, and wait by the front door,” she tells you as she steps away, holding your gaze until you nod obediently. Your mind is reeling at this point, confusion and arousal warring inside of you. What is happening?

You don't know, and you don't seem to care too much either as you start moving, following her orders. You end up on your knees again, right by the door, waiting like a dog, and the image couldn't have been more fitting when you see her approaching with a strange leather band in her hands. You blink when she crouches down before you and fixes what you can only assume is a collar around your neck. It sits tight enough to notice it, but you can still breathe freely and swallow against it without it restricting you in any way.

You're still confused why you need this (and why you accept it so easily). Your roommate (Mistress) cups your face and looks at you with a warm gaze that makes you bite your lip, her hands rubbing over your cheeks before she tugs her thumbs under your chin and lifts it so she can lean in and press her lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut as you part your lips and meet her tongue, the kiss deep and soft, gentle gliding of tongues and lips, a warm gesture, sending sparks through your nerves that make you throb with a need that feels both familiar and eerily unknown, frightening.

A single thought ricochets through your empty head: You would do anything for this woman.

“My beautiful pet,” she whispers against your tingling lips, the tip of her tongue tracing the corner of your mouth. “Are you ready?”

Without thinking, without wondering what for, you nod eagerly, a breathless “Yes, Mistress.” leaving your swollen lips. She gives you another peck and stands up then, snapping her fingers in a way that leaves no room for interpretation. You stand immediately, swaying slightly on the high heels you were told to wear. You're still smaller than her, but having to look up only amplifies the sensation coursing through you. Your devotion for her.

She grabs a large bag and shoves it into your hands, and you know by the weight and feel of it, that it holds camera equipment. A distant memory shimmers behind your glassy eyes, of stumbling into her room, finding those envelopes in the drawer of her desk, of flipping through countless pictures of your naked body, of your holes being stuffed and stretched, of being tied down, of letting her do with you whatever she wants. What has disturbed you earlier is barely worth a flinch now.

It's what you do. It's what you are. Her muse. Her pet. She chose you and you obey. It's what you do, it's what she does. She's your Mistress, after all.

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

End notes: Yes, our dominant lady here is indeed inspired by a character from my other (m/f) Dom/sub story: Infatuated: Mistress.

By the way, a little disclaimer at the end here as we go to the next (heavier) chapters: I am not a BDSM professional or expert, I am a writer with a dirty mind and access to the Internet. This is fiction, gaslighting people is bad, consent is very important, but when a hot lady tells you to do something, you gotta do it, that's the law (jk). Please see this as what it is: a fantasy and nothing more.

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Saturday!

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

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kimchi-miss · 2 years ago

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♥︎𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝑭𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝑺𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔/𝑽𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑨𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒐𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎♥︎

•ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ʜᴏʀʀᴏʀ sʟᴀsʜᴇʀs, ᴅᴄ ᴠɪʟʟɪᴀɴs•

♡𝘎𝘕 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳♡

∇No warnings, pure fluff!∇

❃Requested by: No one, I was just feeling gay as usual❃

✦𝑇𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑉𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑒✦

♥︎"Hey, Sugar?"

♥︎ Tiffany would call out your name softly, a few times to see if you were still awake or not.

♥︎ After realizing you were asleep, she would take the time to admire your features and pet your hair soothingly.

♥︎ If you think she's leaving anytime soon, then think again because she's staying even after you wake up.

♥︎ She would probably hum a quiet tune to keep you asleep and relaxed.

♥︎ If anyone were to interrupt, she glare at them to not make any sound but would go back to admiring your cute face.

♥︎ She could always go later to deal with them.

♥︎ Overall, she's so comfy to sleep on and would give you the best nap of your life.

✦𝐷𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒✦

♥︎ Dollface would have the biggest smile on her face just watching you sleep.

♥︎ The view of your chest just rising up and down is the best for her.

♥︎ She would probably start caressing your face softly and engraving that picture in her mind.

♥︎ You just look so peaceful and cute that she can't contain her content.

♥︎ If a stranger dared to interrupt or accidentally wakes you up, they'll be dead faster than you could blink.

♥︎ She then would make you go back to sleep after she made sure they were dead.

♥︎ At the end, she's a great pillow and will make sure no one interrupts your sleep <3.

✦𝐵𝑎𝑏𝑦 𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑦✦

♥︎ Baby would giggle a little when she realized you were asleep.

♥︎ Like the others, she would admire you and bring you close to a tight embrace.

♥︎ If any of her family members caught you guys together, she would shush them and send them a silent gesture to shoo them away.

♥︎ This was her time now and no one was going to change that.

♥︎ She would probably fall asleep with you, finding it so comfortable and relaxing.

♥︎ But if someone who wasn't her family interrupted..

♥︎ OO would she be pissed.

♥︎ They better start praying because they ain't making it that night.

♥︎ Afterwards she'll give you a kiss as an apology and promises she can make it up for the rest of the night.

♥︎ "I'm sorry hon, if you want, we could do something other than sleeping. I promise it'll be good;)"

✦𝐶𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑒 𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒✦

♥︎ Carrie wouldn't know what to do in this situation.

♥︎ She would feel very flustered at the situation and would try to see if you were actually asleep.

♥︎"Y/N? Y/N, are you awake?"

♥︎ Once she knew you were asleep for sure she would look around making sure no one, (her bullies), were seeing this.

♥︎ Once the coast was clear she would slowly feel peace staring at you.

♥︎ She would smile, admiring the adorable faces you made during your sleep.

♥︎ She would try her hardest not to move or to disturb you, wanting you to get all the rest you need.

♥︎ Once you actually woke up she would simply smile and say, "Did you have a good rest?"

✦𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑒𝑦 𝑄𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑛✦

♥︎ Harley would just let out a long "Awwww"

♥︎ The fact you trusted her enough to just fall asleep on her was amazing.

♥︎ She would laugh at the silly faces you would make but would mostly adore them.

♥︎ Would probably start reading some book that's next to her, occasionally looking back at you.

♥︎ After she doesn't feel like reading anymore, she'll play with your hair, smiling at your state.

♥︎ She would kiss your forehead very gently every few minutes.

♥︎ She then would start whispering about how she much she loved you.

♥︎ You wake up during this and decided to pretend to be asleep.

♥︎ Unfortunately for you, She found out pretty quickly that you woke up and started to say some vulgar things to mess with you.

♥︎ You got very embarrassed and had to state you were awake for her to stop.

♥︎"Ha! I knew you were awake puddin, I was just messing with you."

#tiffany valentine #tiffany valentine x reader #dollface #baby firefly #baby firefly x reader #carrie white #carrie white x reader #harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #slashers x reader #horror #dc harley quinn #female slasher #female slashers x reader

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screechcat · 3 months ago

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Just a big fat list of all my favorite stories/series/art on this app.

Chasing More Than Ghosts - WandaNat x Reader

Neon Lights - Nuts and Dolts comic series

A Love Lost - Natasha x Reader - Angst

Shielded 1-4 - Dimtrescu Sisters/Alcina series

You Have A Kid? - Maria Hill x Reader

A Love So Understanding - Sam Carpenter x Reader (I just have to add that this has to be one of my favorite series on this app)

Everyone But Her - Wednesday Addams x Reader (my other favorite series on this app)

New York, New Rules - Tara Carpenter x Reader

Tux/suit art help

@divinegrey Arcane Masterlist - Vanisher Series (Jinx x Reader) - Pop Rocks & Punches (Vi x Reader)

Note: I, honest to the Gods, think of both of these series multiple times throughout my year.

Road to Healing - Wanda x Reader

In Mourning - WandaNat x Reader

Can't Let Her Make That Sacrifice - Jinx x Reader (Should def read this while listening to What Have They Done to Us from season 2)

Her Heartbeat Masterlist - Wednesday x Reader (Angst) - Another absolute banger in the works

In another, another universe - Arcane art

Healing Hands - Wanda x Reader ◇

The Ghost of Lovell Hill - Cairo Sweet x Reader

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sijssjsbssjsnsnnskbskwns · 6 months ago

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Hell of a summer (what songs I think match the vibe) (part 2)

Movie summary…

Y/n L/n

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teaaagan · 2 years ago

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Best person ever!

Cassandra: Where's Harley?

Pamela: Don't worry, I'll find her

Pamela, shouting: Y/N sucks!

Harley, distantly: Y/N is the best person ever!Fuck you!

Pamela: Found her

#incorrect quotes #dc #harley quinn #harley quinn x you #harley quinn x reader #harley quinn x male reader #harley quinn x fem reader #harley quinn x fem!reader #harley quinn x male!reader #harley quinn x gn!reader #harley quinn x gn reader #birds of prey #harleen quinzel #harleen quinzel x reader #harleen quinzel x fem reader #harleen quinzel x male reader #harleen quinzel x gn reader #harley quinn x female reader

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anxiousnerdwritings · 2 years ago

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Hiya Sugar,

You’re the newest goodey-goodey in town, aren’t ya? What am I sayin’, of course ya are! I already knew that! In fact I know a lot about’cha, you’d be real surprised.

At first, I didn’t think too much about there being another vigilante running amuck. To me it was the usual same ol’, same ol’ in Gotham. It wasn’t until we had our very first run in that had me wanting to take a real good look into ya. I had been with my former crappy Puddin’ at the time and we were planning to cause some havoc for B-man, but you showed up first. That didn’t stop us from causin’ you some trouble too but you were really somethin’. A good kinda somethin’! You surpassed both mine and my ex-Puddin’s expectations by a long shot, putting us in our place real quick before B-man even made an appearance. But when he did finally roll around, my shitty ex had the audacity to use me as a distraction so he could getaway, puttin’ me in peril.

I’ll be honest I was worried there for a bit. Sure I was all laughs about it until it set in that my Puddin wasn’t gonna save me then the panic came. I mean hanging off a 70 story building by the tippy tips of ya fingers will do that to ya, ya’know? (To be honest, I don’t even know if it really was 70 stories but it sure as hell felt like it.) But then the most marvelous thing happened! My grip gave way and I was startin’ to fall only for an arm to shoot out and catch me!

Now, I was fully expecting B-man or one of his little birdies being the one who got to me but imagine my surprise when I was met with a new face. A really nice lookin’ face too! (At least from what I could tell.) Your grip on me was real strong and firm but it felt gentle all the same. Ya pulled me up and looked me all over for any serious damage, askin’ if I was alright. You didn’t manhandle or be too rough with me whatsoever. In fact you were real gingerly in checking me over. You also weren’t yellin’ or shoutin’ at me either, instead you were speaking slow and soft to me. I remember your voice bein’ real nice to listen to too. In that moment I realized you truly were somethin’ different, a breath of fresh air compared to the rest of the heroes coming out of the woodworks in Gotham.

You were just so nice to me, even though we tried to kill ya and cause some psychological damage along the way (sort bout that by the way😅), but you were still worried about little ol’ me. I don’t even think B-man has ever been really genuinely concerned about my well-being before, at least not like you were, when my Puddin’s used me like a meat shield. If it weren’t for his no killing hangup he probably would have let me die plenty of times before. But you actually cared! I don’t know what exactly it was but somethin’ about ya that night made me feel all tingly and warm inside and I liked it. Then the next thing I knew you were gone chasing after B-man and my ex-Puddin’ leavin’ me feelin’ cold and alone. Ever since then I’ve been keepin’ a close eye on ya. Hell, I even dumped my Puddin’ right after that incident. Ya should have seen his face, thinkin’ I wasn’t serious only for him to come mopin’ around wantin’ me back. But I stood my ground. Besides, I already had my eye on somethin’ better. Or rather someone better.

Like I said before, I’ve been keepin’ my eye on ya since then and I’m so glad I did. Sure some people would call it “stalking” but I prefer to call it “closely admiring from a reasonable and legal distance”. Except those few times I did let myself into your place and took a peek around. I didn’t take anything though, at least nothing you’d notice but that’s not what’s important. What is important though is how much you’ve opened my eyes to new horizons beyond just stupid ol’ Joker and everything that has to do with him. I still do the odd crime here and there but they’re no way near the same extremes like they used to be. I only really do somethin’ bad when I know you’re on patrol and will for sure be the one to stop my shenanigans. Honestly, I just want the chance to see and talk to ya again. Don’t even get me started about all the times when I have caused mischief only for B-man or one of his birdies to be the one to show up instead of you. I’ve never felt so disappointed and upset before. All that time and effort only for some other big baddie or even a small petty criminal to take up your attention away from me. It really gets under my skin. Would I say I’m jealous though? Not really. Okay maybe a little but can ya blame me? After all this time I finally have somethin’ good in my life that’s gettin’ me to change perspective only to have to share it with others who have no intention on changin’ for anybody! They’re a waste of your time but I get that you gotta stick to your goodey-goodey schtick, that’s who ya are after all. But still it gets me feelin’ some type of way, and not in a good way either.

I can’t help that you’ve become something so prominent to me in such a short amount of time, although I know ya don’t know just how much ya truly mean to me. I’ve even started focusing on doing more good than bad, little by little ya’ know? Baby steps. You’re a good part of why I started leaning more towards being good but it was also due to another incident I got in. I won’t go into it but let’s just say it involved a lower criminal who just wouldn’t stop runnin’ his mouth about ya and I wasn’t havin’ any of it. I admit I may have gone a little overboard with getting my a point across but he deserved it. He had no right talkin’ about ya like that! Sure, he’ll probably never wake up from his coma and is in a permanent vegetative state but you can’t say he isn’t technically still alive. So at least I didn’t kill him kill him, right? Hey, what can I say this goodey stuff is still pretty new to me. At least I’m tryin’ my best. There was also some other stuff involved besides him bad mouthin’ ya but I can’t for the life of me remember what it was but I’m sure it also was well deserving of an ass kickin’.

Oh goodness gracious, look at me ramblin’ away as usual! Ya got that kind of affect on me, ya’know? But anyhoo, I should really end this letter before I start spillin’ all my beans. I need to keep some secrets to myself after all. But maybe I’ll get around to tellin’ ya those ones too when we’re much more acquainted. But don’t worry ya little ol’ head though, sugar, everythin’ will come to fruition in due time and the two of us will be together! I just gotta get a few of my duckies in a row before we take the plunge but it’ll all be worth it in the end and you’ll finally be all mine!

See ya soon, sugar! Don’t miss me too much though~ Before ya know it we’ll be makin’ up for all our lost time and really gettin’ to know each other! But until then I’ll leave ya with this and a few gifts I left behind for ya too!

Lots of lovin’,

Harley<3<3<3

P.s

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxooxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxooxoxoxoxooxoxoxxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxxxoxox~~~~

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mistycreativelilacs · 6 months ago

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Thawing of A Heart Pt.3

Authors note: what’s this? Not me updating this fic three years later.

Whoops ¯\_(ツ)_/¯… Anyway here’s the (maybe) long awaited third part filled with tension and plot twists.

Content warning: Violence, gun use, references to castration, references to mental health, use of the word crazy, mild angst, mentions of character deaths, Peacemaker exists (rip to people who like him)

Pt.1 (x) Pt.2 (x)

You’re lost in the ever-changing branches of Rick’s timelines when Cleo nudges you. Your eyes sweep the plane, unable to stop the pang of longing for your old team. The pang turns to a dull ache in your chest as you attempt to block the visions of your friends' flickering timelines. If you were going to be any use to them, you’d need to re-adopt the Ice Queen persona you’d had when you started this job five years ago.

“So how does Bruce Wayne’s eldest charity case end up working with a bunch of second-rate criminals?” Bloodsport interrupts your pondering. He’d been watching you since the debrief, eyes trained on you like a puzzle he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to solve. You could imagine what Harl’s would have to say if she were here.

‘Ooooh, looks like someone’s got themselves a shiny new criminal admirer. Should I lick you to show him you’re already claimed?’ Said in the world’s worst stage whisper to garner Flags attentions. Subtlety and Harley were not synonymous, and no one cared more about the pseudo-relationship between yourself and Flag then your self proclaimed ‘BFF’. She’d expressed her feelings on the matter several times over the years. Your favourite instance being several months ago, during one of your last missions with the team. You and Flag had been arguing about sending you in to get information from the target when Harley sauntered over wicked grin on her face. ‘You twos should just relieve this obvious tension already. Seriously, here’s a broom closet. Go at it, for the good of the team.’ Manic smile still firmly on her face as she attempted to drag you into said closet.

“I believe the words you meant to say, Sergeant Dubois is ‘Bruce Wayne’s eldest child’. To which I’d have to say we have more of a sibling relationship. Not that it’s any of your business.” You hold his gaze. “As for joining the squad?” You shrug, “Wrong place at the right time.” He quirks his brow clearly unamused.

“I haven’t been a Sergeant in a long time.”

“And just what would you call your current roll here?” You gesture around the plane while he glares at you. The corner of your mouth twitches against your will.

“Waller evidently had been keeping tabs on me, due in part to certain rumours about my participation in corporate espionage. So, when I got picked up by GCPD for allegedly crashing Bruce’s new Ferrari into the lobby of LexCorps newest eyesore of a skyscraper in downtown Gotham, Waller swooped in.” Your little chat had garnished the attention of the plane's other occupants, their heads all turned towards you and Robert.

“You want us to believe that the daughter of Billionaire Bruce Wayne got hauled off to Belle Reve for crashing a car? And what could Waller want in a civilian like you anyway?” Peacemaker. You’d been attempting to avoid him since Waller introduced you at the debrief. If his persistent existence as the antagonist in your visions of Flag’s current timeline wasn’t enough to turn you off, the skin crawling sensation of his eyes constantly roaming over your body was enough to put him firmly in the creep category.

“Crashing a car didn’t get me sent to Belle Reve. As I said, I’d been the subject of corporate espionage rumours for years. Waller used my accident combined with those rumours to get me whisked to Belle Reve under the guise of my being a National Security risk. It took one phone call from Bruce to get the charges dropped, but by then I was already in the middle of Midway City on my first Task Force mission.”

“If the charges were dropped, why stick around?” Your eyes wonder back to Robert.

“Can’t a girl want to be part of something bigger than herself?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice and somewhere in the back of your head a voice - that sounds suspiciously like Harley- reminds you that you’re here to save Flag, not flirt with attractive violent Englishmen. Even if they did fall perfectly into your type of the emotionally constipated older dilf. “No, much like all of you Waller has a small amount of blackmail to keep me compliant.” You cross one leg over the other, adopting the oh so familiar public persona of a Wayne. “Unlike all of you, I’m being paid to be here.”

“But why does she want you here?” Peacemaker leans forward in his seat.

“Originally, she believed me to be some sort of hacker savant or a meta with some sort of compulsion powers. I was neither of those, but I did prove to be quite useful in the field.” Your gaze moves to you lap as timelines tickle the back of your mind, begging to be seen. “I do dread the day she realizes just what kind of bird she’s caged.” An image of Rick in pain flashes through your mind. Gone before you can really grasp if it was a future timeline or your own imagination.

“Are you saying you’ve got some sort of bird powers?” You toy with checking the timelines to see just how fucked you’d be for killing Peacemaker here and now but ultimately decide it’d give Waller more ammunition against you.

“My powers lie more in the line of a… second sight than with birds, although…” You pretend to mull it over, “I’d probably get along better with you if my powers were more avian in nature.” You could see the ghost of a smirk flirt across Robert's face and a warmth flits through your chest.

You avert your gaze before the familiar itch of branching timelines can pull you under. Perhaps Flags icy demeanour of the last few months had affected you more than you thought. It’d been a long time since such minor attentions from a man had you near slipping into the branches of time.

“What the fucks that supposed to mean?” Peacemaker stood abruptly, moving towards you only to be halted by Robert’s hand on his chest.

“Alright tough guy, sit back down.”

“Was it my use of verbose vocabulary words that has you confused?” You stand, waltzing closer to where they stand, one strand of hair curled around your finger. Perhaps Harley had been rubbing off on you more than you cared to admit. “Let me put it in words you’d understand.” Your standing face to face with Peacemaker now, Roberts body only partially between the two of you. “You.” You jab your finger into Peacemaker's sternum, brushing against Robert's arm. “Dumb.” Another jab. “Like.” Peacemaker's eyes had drifted to your finger on his chest while Robert attempted to move himself more in front of you. “Bird.” With the final jab you run your finger up and flick him in his nose, a move reminiscent of your nephews. With that final flick all hell broke loose.

Peacemaker moved to advance on you, having shoved Robert aside. You were expecting this, having let slips of the timeline penetrate your consciousness, and turn your back to him at the last minute grabbing the arm he’d reached forward to attack with. You flip him over your shoulder and as he slams into the planes floor, you dig your foot into his neck pointing your gun at his face.

��As you can see Robert, those fears of me being dead weight can be put to rest. I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself. Even against dumb brutes like him.” Peacemaker moves to grab your leg, and you let off a shot beside his head. “Stay down or the next ones a castration shot.” You move the gun to point at Peacemakers crotch and you catch a glimpse of fear in his eyes.

“Bitch” he gasps out as you dig the ball of your foot a little deeper into his neck.

“A bitch with near immunity, not that anyone would care if I wounded trash like you. Now are you going to shut up and behave like a good little dog.” Theres a flash of defiance in his eyes and you twitch your trigger finger.

“What the hell are they teaching in those fancy prep schools?” Robert's face didn’t give much in the way of what he was feeling, much like Flag, however you’d noticed that unlike Flag, Roberts eyes displayed his every emotion, if you knew what to look for. God, a few hours with this man and you’d already believed you could discern his emotions from a single glance. The sooner you got out of this plane the better.

“Looks like Rickies got some competition…” There goes the phantom Harley once again. Maybe her crazy is rubbing off on you like Bruce feared.

“Dancing.” You spit out, holding Robert's gaze as you remove your foot from Peacemaker's throat. “They teach you how to dance.” You’re finding far too much enjoyment in this little rapport you’ve started with the mercenary, but even Harley didn’t put up with your idiosyncrasies for this long, unless she was in a mood. The last person who could, ended up on the wrong side of Jokers crowbar. Perhaps Waller was right when she claimed the only thing separating me from the rest of the Belle Reve residents was the Wayne family name.

“I highly doubt dance lessons taught you how to do that.” There’s a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“Dancing, fighting.” You shrug “They’re one in the same are they not?” You sit back down, aware that the rest of the plane has gained a new wariness of you. You feel more than see Robert give you a once over.

“You truly are something else Wayne.” Robert exhales as he sits back down, the hint of a chuckle shaking his bulky frame.

Alarm bells start going off in your head. The kind of alarms that sound like Bruce and scream ‘life altering, name ruining, PR nightmare, absolutely atrocious decision making incoming.’

“You don’t even know the half of it Sergeant.”

Tag-List: @paryl @nerdgrrlramblings @weallhaveadestiny @a-girl-who-loves-disney @boristhepineapple @girlnred @romanticgumchewer-reactivated @lacontroller1991

#colonel rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag x female reader #bloodsport #bloodsport x reader #rick flag fanfiction #the suicide squad #harley quinn #bruce wayne #Wayne reader #jason todd #reader insert #fanfiction #dceu oc

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islawila · 4 months ago

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miss ween

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lacontroller1991 · 1 year ago

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Whumptober Day 5: Roman Sionis x F!Reader

Main Master List || Whumptober Master List

Day 5: Hostage/Kidnapping/Held at Gunpoint

Summary: With reader now being known as Roman Sionis’s girlfriend, she becomes an easy target.

WARNINGS: 18+ Graphic depiction of physical assault, graphic mention of blood/bruises/swelling, gang violence, mention of drugs, reader didn't know that Sions runs a mob, graphic depiction of murder, gun usage, slight PTSD

The room is cold and dark. You don’t know where you are but you definitely know that you’re not back at home. Home. A place where you were ripped away from without anyone knowing. A harsh hand slaps across your face, causing your head to whip to the side. “I’m going to ask you this one more time, where is Sionis keeping his supply.” You let out a whimper as the man you don’t know grips onto your face, squishing your already aching face in between his short, fat fingers.

“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Another slap lands across your face as you spit out some blood.

“So you’re meaning to tell me that Sionis’s little pet doesn’t know where he’s storing the drugs?” The man snarls as your eyes widen. Drugs? What on earth is he talking about? Sure, Roman is a bit… eccentric, but he wouldn’t be dealing drugs. Would he?

“What drugs?” You cry out, the rope binding your arms to the chair rubbing your skin raw as the man backs up, looking you over.

“Do you seriously not know that your lover is a crime boss?” He laughs as the others around you also laugh, confusion among other feelings predominating your emotions.

“He owns a club. That’s all he does.” You try to defend but something tells you that even you don’t believe it.

“Oh you sweet, sweet child. You really don’t have a clue. Roman Sionis owns a club, it’s true. But he is also one of the crime lords supplying Gotham with its drug problem.”

“No, you’re wrong.” Tears well in your eyes as your brain starts putting the pieces together. The random stains in some of his clothes. The faint smell of gunpowder. The random screams you hear. His off-putting behavior. It all makes sense now. Sensing your revelation, the man motions to two of the guys behind you.

“Take her away.”

—-------

“Roman.” Zsasz walks in, a packet in his hands as Roman looks up from his desk, hair messy and still in his pajamas.

“What is it? Did you find her?” He walks around the desk towards his right hand man. The first few hours of your disappearance Roman has just thought that you finally decided to leave him and he threw a rage fit. He really only calmed down when Zsasz pointed out the fact that all of your stuff is still in the apartment and nothing was missing, only you. Which led to the conclusion that you have been taken. In which Roman quickly mobilized his men to try and hunt you down.

Handing Roman the file, Zsasz quickly steps away, knowing that Roman would likely throw another fit once he sees the contents. Opening the file, he pulls out the photos and he sees red. One photo is you in a chair, tied to the posts. Another photo is more of a close up where he sees the rope cutting into your skin. The last photo is another close up, but this time of your face. Bruises and swelling around your eyes, beaten cheeks, bruised, swollen, bloody lips and it makes his blood boil.

“What do you want to do boss?” Roman looks up and Zsasz’s eyes widen. Sure he’s seen Roman angry, but the calmness on Roman’s face even has Zsasz intimated.

“Gather everyone.”

—-----

The sound of gunfire stirs you out of your unconsciousness and causes you to jump, only to be met with resistance. Men shouting orders and profanities barely contrast to the amount of gun fire being shed. You begin to cry, terrified of what’s going on. You try to get out of the binds but it’s only rubbing against your already broken skin. After a few minutes the gunfire stops, shoes clicking against the floor and you can hear a gun cock.

“No. Please. No. No.” A voice begs as the footsteps stop.

“Where is she?” The voice sounds vaguely familiar but it also sounds muffled, like there’s a mask covering the voice.

“She’s in there!” Your eyes widen as you realize that they’re talking about you. Full out crying, you’re trying to loosen the rope as much as possible but it doesn’t budge.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” A single gunshot rings out and you let out a sob, shutting your eyes and silently praying that whoever just murdered that person is not here to murder you. “Open it.” The door creaks open as feet rush in, one coming directly towards you.

“Please don’t hurt me. I’m innocent. I didn’t do anything.” You beg, tears falling down your face as you turn away.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I’m here. Roman’s here.” Your eyes slowly open as much as they can as you turn your head towards the voice.

“Roman? What are you doing here?” He shushes you as you feel your hands become free, the rope that was once holding you back now gone as you surge into Roman’s arms. “Oh Roman, it was so terrible. They said terrible things. They said that you run a gang and that you’re storing drugs?” His silence is deafening and you realize that the person who had you captured was right. “He was right, wasn’t he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he dismisses your claim but you know.

“I can’t believe you. Why would you do that?”

“Look baby, we can talk about this later, but we need to get you some medical care. Kay?” You begrudgingly decide to let it go, letting Roman help you out of the chair. He motions for Zsasz and another henchmen to help you but you jerk away from them and into Roman. “You guys go away,” Roman motions for them to leave and as they do, Roman sweeps you up into his arms, knowing that you probably won’t like the fact that the floors are littered with bodies. “Just focus on me, okay. I’m going to get you out of here and we’ll talk.”

“Promise?” You lay your head into his shoulder as he struggles not to gag at the fact that your blood is getting on his Gucci suit.

“I promise.”

#roman sionis x you #whumptober 2023 #whumptober #lacontroller1991 #Ewan mcgregor #harley quinn and the birds of prey #harley quinn movie #reader insert #female reader #roman Sions x reader #black mask

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animasola86 · 2 months ago

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F o r g e t f u l 🎀 3 / 4

After you fainted, you find yourself in a different position, even more vulnerable than before, subject to a punishment you don't deserve. Or do you? And why does it excite you so much?

a dominant woman X a submissive girl with a memory problem

WARNINGS: F!Reader-insert! NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Mistress/pet. Domme/sub. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Praise kink. Dubcon elements. Humiliation. Exhibition(ism). Bondage. Impact play (canes, floggers, paddles, riding crops). Fingering. Forced orgasm. Squirting. Object insertion. Vaginal fisting. (More tags on AO3.) WORDS: 5k

A/N: As this is still a scene with a mixed audience, it's implied that Reader gets fingered by a man. If you don't like that, you can imagine somebody else of course. It's barely mentioned, just a bit of a size difference to what she knew before, so technically not that big of a deal. I wanted to warn you nevertheless! (I don't even know why I mention this tiny detail when the whole chapter is full of things that are much, much worse... so beware: this is the roughest part of the series.)

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

And then there's pain. A sudden slap, then another, left cheek, right cheek, your head whipping around under the force. You gasp, mouth wide open, eyelids fluttering, and as your eyes open fully, you stare ahead in shock, realizing it's not over yet, but the relief is tainted by a deep hurt, a coughing fit that makes you keel over, which you can, surprisingly. No more leather strap on your stomach, no more ties around your wrists and ankles.

You can lean in and cough your heart out, raspy breaths trying to find their way into your lungs. The pain is all around you for a moment, until you slowly calm down again, pushed back into soft cushions, a hand wiping at your sweat-slick skin. You blink your eyes into focus and see your roommate. Mistress. The beautiful woman who decided to make you her pet. Somehow there's clarity in this moment, as air floods your system, reviving your numb body with agonizing tingles.

No more dildo gag stuffed in your throat, no more restraints. What happened? You probably fainted. Did you ruin the scene? Fear crashes through you as you find Mistress' eyes. They are hard and dark, but there's something else on her pretty face: concern. For you? Or for the event she planned for such a long time? You reach up a shaking hand, trying to connect to her, your lips parting, but no words coming out.

The muscle in her jaw twitches before she looks away, nodding to someone you can't see. Hands grab you, no longer groping or exploring, but grabbing and gripping, forcing you into a sitting position before they turn you around onto your stomach. You let it happen, you're too weak to protest, still caught in your mind, fighting the guilt creeping up on you. Your arms and legs are strapped to the extensions of the table again, leaving you in a spread-eagle position, it's just your head that hangs off the edge.

There's no strap around your back, holding you down, allowing whoever is handling you to pull your hips up so your ass is sticking out more. A pillow is propped under your stomach to help with the elevation. You breathe deeply, forcing yourself to calm down somehow. The position feels familiar, but you can't remember any pictures depicting it. No. But there are other memories that suddenly flush your clouded mind. And they don't make it any better.

A helpless sniffle escapes you, reminding the people around you that you can issue noises, and apparently that's not something they want to hear. Someone grabs your chin, pulls your head up, you blink, trying to see anything, but before you can, something is stuffed into your mouth, holding your teeth open. At least it's not another dildo gag obstructing your throat. But the motion triggers more memories, hazy ones, red ones, of pain...

Instinctively you bite down on the object, it's soft but sturdy, allowing your teeth to sink in some while not allowing for anything else. You feel your saliva trickling past your lips and down your chin, the drip of it swallowed by the shuffling noises around you.

“My dear guests, there has been a slight change of plans,” you hear Mistress' voice, velvety, raw, vibrating through your core like a gentle caress. Though her words don't calm you in the slightest. “Seems like my pet decided to faint on us a little too early, the poor thing. I apologize, I know we haven't really started yet. You will still get your turn with her, do not worry. But to get her back on track and focused, I need your help. For those willing, my assistants will provide a variety of impact play items to you, please choose one each and gather around the table.”

Your nape tingles, deep shivers crashing down your spine as you whine into your gag, struggling against your restraints. A hand presses on your back, holding you still. Your breaths are erratic, your lips trembling as you part them, more spit running down your chin.

“If you may, you will take turns. Please remember that only the flogger and the whip may hit her back, focus any other item on her rear and thighs. Canes can impact her palms and soles.”

Mistress' instructions send even more shudders down your body, and to your growing horror, you feel how someone twists your arms to turn your hands palm up. Someone else starts pulling off your shoes, before your stockings follow. Your garter belt is gone too.

Now completely naked and vulnerable, strapped to a table, with the prospect of being spanked in various ways, you feel your heart thundering in your chest, your breaths frantic, and maybe if you force yourself into hyperventilating, you can faint again and won't have to witness any of this. But someone seems to notice when you feel two hands on your head, pulling it up slightly before a face appears in your blurred vision.

Mistress. “Pet, I need you to calm down,” she says sternly. “Do not fight this, it will only make it worse. You know that, right?”

You want to shake your head, staring at her pleadingly. How should you know this? You've never been spanked before, or have you? Well. There are faint memories, but then again, there were no pictures. No lasting marks on your body that would suggest anything like this. Or maybe you just can't remember? A pathetic sniffle makes it past the silicone bar between your teeth.

“Bite down on your gag, relax, breathe deeply. You will have enough time to react and process each blow. I am not cruel, you know that, but you fainted on me, and you came without permission, remember?”

You frown at her, wanting to protest (how were you supposed to ask for your orgasm with a dildo rammed down your throat?), but she clicks her tongue and shakes her head, her hand rubbing along your cheek.

“Be a good girl for me, okay? Don't embarrass me now,” she says, giving you a pointed look. “I know you can endure this. You've done so before. Your body can handle it. Just let go, pretty girl,” she adds softly, leaning in to press her full lips to your sweaty forehead. “Do it for me.”

Your stomach fills with a strange heat, and you find yourself nodding into her hand. She smiles at you, further pushing you down a road you don't want to be on, but you know you have to, you want to, for her. Anything for her.

She lets go of you and steps away, her fingers brushing along your tense shoulders. You focus on your breathing, ignoring the tingling of your limbs, and worst of all: the arousal settling deep in your core. How can this possibly arouse you? What is wrong with you? But soon the doubts and questions grow quieter as anticipation makes you anxious, and giddy.

An eerie silence settles all around you, until you hear Mistress' voice again. “Allow me to deliver the first blow,” she narrates what can only be your downfall.

You brace to her words, wondering what object she chose. Strangely enough you feel her fingers between your spread legs, pointy fingernails scraping over sensitive flesh. She seems to stand right between your thighs, one hand resting on your hip, the other exploring your folds.

“Look at this,” she says to the audience you cannot see. “She wants this. She gets off on it.” Her fingers dip into your slick, a lewd squelching sound echoing through the quiet room. You feel your cheeks burning up in embarrassment. “So do not hesitate when you play with her. She can handle this. Give her your best shot.”

And with that she lets go of your hip before her flat hand finds your right ass cheek with a reverberating slap, the impact so severe your whole body jerks against your restraints, a muffled scream trying to make it past your gag. A deep pain settles right beneath your skin, scorching and throbbing, but with her fingers suddenly slipping into your cunt, you feel conflicted.

She's curling them, pressing her fingertips into your soft flesh, before she hits the same ass cheek again, the same spot, and you clench hard around her digits, crying out, back arching, hips bucking, the pain so intense it bleeds into a strange kind of pleasure. And it was just her hand, you realize through the red fog in your head. You can't even imagine what other objects may feel like on your skin.

Of course you don't have to wait long. Mistress keeps her fingers in your pulsing pussy (you realize she is the only one not wearing gloves) as she starts directing her planned out event. “If you may, we will start with a cane to the palm. Proceed.”

You hate how she announces it, it only makes it worse, knowing where to expect the pain, it makes you flinch even before the thin item hits you. Though when it does, hard and sharp and sudden after all, you scream into your gag, convulsing hard on the table, trying to pull your hand away or turn it, but the ties around your wrists sit too tight. As you still process the stinging pain radiating from your palm, a weird throbbing thing sitting right under your skin, your other hand is hit with the same sensation, a rapid whoosh in the air, a hard and precise hit, causing you to writhe and shriek again.

As you struggle you feel someone holding down your fingers to keep your hand in position. It feels warm, your blood pumping erratically into the welts you're sure are blooming on your palms. All the while, Mistress' fingers sit still in your cunt, a gentle pressure, and you try to focus on that, on her making sure you're still okay during this endeavor.

“Feet next,” she says, and you sniffle, curling your toes in anticipation, but when the cane hits the bare sole of your left foot, it's like nothing you've ever felt. Even more painful than on your hands, the wooden stick thrashes against your soft skin, digging deep, or so it feels, a sting like a stab right into your nerves. You wail helplessly, body jerking, hips grinding against Mistress' hand.

To your biggest shame, your walls clench tightly around her fingers, muscles contracting as the pain crashes through your body, turning into a burning wave of pleasure – only to be disrupted by another sharp sting to your other foot, leaving you lightheaded and breathless as you bite down hard on the gag in your mouth.

“Thank you,” you hear the velvety voice from seemingly far away, even though she is still standing between your legs. “How do you think she's done? Will we allow her one orgasm? What do you say? Aye or no?”

Hushed voices echo through the room, barely able to penetrate the thick fog in your head. The pain still throbs warm and unrelenting under your bruised skin, your heart thundering in the same rhythm. A chorus of “Aye!” breaks through your dizziness, and you sigh against your gag when you feel the fingers in your cunt moving, in and out, slowly, the pad of her fingertips rubbing over your sensitive spots, poking and prodding.

“Come on, pet, you heard the people. Come for us, show us what you can do,” Mistress chants behind you, pushing and pulling her digits in and out faster, her thumb pressing hard onto the plug you've almost forgotten about.

Your whimpers are muffled, your stomach tensing up under her ministrations. Her hand moves in a quick sawing motion, her pinky brushing against your clit while her other fingers are pressed deeper into your fluttering cunt, thumb teasing your ass. In and out it goes, faster, harder, and the heat builds, wet and scorching deep inside you. You thrash in your restraints, hips stuttering, thighs twitching, the squelching noises growing louder and more obscene.

You couldn't care less, panting into your gag, eyes squeezed shut, focused on riding this high for as long as you're allowed. Mistress gets even faster, really ramming her hand against you, into you, parting your tense muscles until you suddenly freeze, almost choking on your own breath as your orgasm comes crashing down on you hard, the sensation so intense your body convulses uncontrollably, twitching against the fingers poking deep, and when they suddenly retreat, leaving you gaping and spasming around nothing, something warm and wet shoots from your core in twitchy jets, and a strange wave of awing noises washes over you.

Your core keeps trembling, pussy pulsing, the relief so intense you can barely breathe, before you collapse onto the table, completely exhausted. A wet hand wipes over your throbbing ass cheek, giving it a gentle slap you barely register.

“Well done, pet, what a show,” Mistress says through the cotton in your head. “Let's see if we can make her squirt again. Commence the play, ladies and gentlemen. Floggers next.”

Her words reach your brain, but they don't make much sense. You're still somewhat floating, pleasure bigger than the pain that comes when you feel the various tails of the whip hit your upper back. It's almost a caress, a gentle stroking, but unlike the cane hits, they are not reduced to just one. Someone keeps hitting the soft leather bands against your back, and each blow gets stronger, harder, until the pain finally settles under your skin, making you squirm and cry out into your gag.

The warm throbbing is spread out more, some spots more sensitive than others, but you're not allowed to focus on them, or turn them into pleasure even, when Mistress announces the next object. You can't really hear what it is, you only notice that her voice sounds from above your head now, and shortly after, you hear the clicking of her camera. Your core is hopelessly empty now, still spasming a little, with your muscles clenching around the butt plug instead.

Bracing for whatever comes next, you are still not ready when it hits you, the sudden impact a loud echoing thud, before the pain crashes through your nerves. Something wide and flat has hit your left ass cheek, and through the shivers, you feel someone standing behind you between your legs, a gloved hand gripping the base of your plug. You whimper against your gag, grinding your hips to get away from the sensation, but whoever is in charge is unrelenting, poking and pulling at the plug before you feel your muscles giving way to release it.

With it gone, you feel something warm and wet dripping from your clenching hole. The lube, you remember faintly, and you focus back on the memory of Mistress preparing your ass. You'd go back to that ten times over, anything but the continued pain from being spanked. A different set of fingers pokes at your sphincter, larger and thicker than a woman's hand, and you squirm, feeling the burning sting of your hole being stretched, muscles protesting, cold air hitting your heated flesh.

It's a strange sensation when the digits drill into you in a turning motion, pushing deep and with force, and you clench around them instinctively. At the same time as you feel knuckles pressing against your rim, another dull thud, a reverberating slap, makes your body jerk, your ass cheek burning under the flat surface of what you can only assume to be a paddle. It hits you again, and the fingers move inside your ass, in and out, forcing against your tense muscles, as you wail helplessly, hot tears streaming down your already warm cheeks.

A rhythm begins, fingers push in, the paddle comes down, stretch, slap, pain, fingers pull out, relief, fingers go back in, stab, push, drill deeper, another paddle blow, always on the same spot, pain blooms deep within you, it's all around, spreading, hot and heavy, tingling, throbbing, igniting the bruises on your palms and soles, and on your back, and still there's a strangely soothing heat building in your core.

Your muscles contract around the invading digits, your hole puckering around them, the motion getting faster, the paddle blows quicker, until they bleed together, and you scream a muffled scream as your body convulses uncontrollably, the mixture of pain and pleasure sinking right into your clit, and it throbs and pulses, your cunt clenching around nothing, and still you come, hard, thighs twitching, toes curling, straining your bruised skin, all of it combines into an orgasm that leaves you dizzy and seeing stars dancing at the edge of your vision.

The fingers in your ass disappear, replaced with the plug again, but instead of tensing around the narrow neck, your muscles pull it in, too loose to assume their original state, and you feel it slipping in all the way, deeper than before, though nobody seems to care, and before you know it, you feel something solid press against your pussy, a hard edge forcing its way into your entrance, but it doesn't quite seem to fit.

“Try the handle first,” you hear a faint voice. “You have to fuck her open, the tight little thing.”

The words make you even more dizzy, and you tense up badly when you feel something being pushed into you, slow but relentlessly, prodding until it slips in, swallowed by your clenching walls. You groan into your gag at the pressure and stretch, a strange fullness adding to the overall tenseness of your body. You try to breathe against it, adjust to it, but it only makes your heart beat faster when you realize it doesn't change anything.

The item in your cunt is moved then, pulled out and pushed in, its edges dragging along your soft flesh, poking at the plug stuck in your ass. At first the rhythm is almost relaxing, a continuous thrusting, but then whoever controls it, gets bored and impatient, and it goes from a slow in and out to a rapid pumping, and you gasp and moan, your muffled noises mixing with the hushed chatter around you.

It's dizzying how fast you're being penetrated, pummeled, hammered, drilled, your muscles giving way, allowing more to slip in, more to push deeper, and a strange pain like a stab crashes through your nerves as it is being pushed as deep as possible, poking right at your cervix. You freeze then, hoping to alleviate the pressure, your breaths erratic, limbs twitching, but it's even worse when it's pulled back with a sudden motion that feels as if you're being split right open.

You're left gaping, empty, your walls fluttering, a deep burning thrumming through your body. It doesn't take long for a new pain to take your breath away. It's bigger, wider at one side, flat, and you know as if seeing it behind your tight eyelids, that the entire paddle is forced into your widened cunt. A low groan escapes you as it fills you up, more and more, pushing deep, aiming straight for your cervix. Stars and black spots dance at the edge of your vision, your body struggling to cope with all the sensations.

For a moment it just sits there, impaling you deeply, the stretch aching low in your stomach. But it gives you time to adjust, at least a little, breathe around it, relax your tense eyebrows, and you even open your eyes (not that you would see anything but feet and legs in your current position). Drool keeps dripping from your open mouth, your teeth and jaw aching with how hard you're biting down on the silicone rod, but it's a good distraction from whatever is happening behind you.

Subdued voices, chatter and laughter alike, ring in your ears, the click and shutter noises of a camera taking countless pictures of your predicament, and the memory of finding these pictures in the first place, of seeing your cunt stretched around various objects, gives you a strange sort of comfort, knowing you've done this before, knowing your body can handle it, can return to normal afterward, meaning it may be over soon. Hopefully.

Though looking back, and it's hazy at best, but you try, you realize that, from a spectator's standpoint, nothing much has happened. There was this girl strapped to a table, a dildo gag in her throat, wrists and ankles tied, and strangers were allowed to touch her with gloved hands, cut off her clothes, grope her breasts and poke her cunt. She came once by the fingers of a random person, then bullied herself into unconsciousness for no apparent reason.

Coming back, she had been turned onto her stomach, tied up again, gagged once more, and had to endure cane hits to her palms and soles, a flogger to the back, and a rather tame spanking of her soft ass, then was allowed to come and squirted, before somebody decided to ram a paddle up her pussy. Looking at it this way, you suddenly know it is far from being over.

Something is shifting behind you, the object in your cunt poked and prodded at, pushed further, harder against your cervix, before it is being turned, its flat shape causing your walls to drag along it, the pressure changes, muscles stretched into a different direction, and all you can do is groan and whine at the fullness. It must sit (with its widest part) horizontally now, counter-intuitive to the natural form of your slit, and it burns, the stretch feels forced, making it almost impossible to breathe.

It does, however, allow your ass to relax, and in doing so, you give a little clench, a little push, and the plug that has been swallowed by your tense muscles pops out slightly, seemingly catches on the handle of the paddle poking out of you, before you hear a faint clattering noise when it leaves you that is followed by a strange murmur going through the room. A tsking sound comes to your ear. A hand grabs your chin, pulls up your head. You can still only see someone's legs, the top of their thighs, a black dress sitting tightly around them.

“Oh, pet, you shouldn't have done that,” Mistress coos. You blink tears away, trying to look up but being unable to. “Bring me the riding crop,” she adds, causing you to shiver and breathe harder in an instant.

She lets go of you, and you see her walking away, the clicking of her heels like an ominous echo, a vibration you can feel in your very core. In your attempt to ground yourself, brace for whatever comes next, you clench your hands into fists, using the sudden sting of pain in your palms to distract yourself further. It doesn't help much when the first blow lands on your body, right between your ass cheeks, directly against your puckered hole.

You scream into your gag, body convulsing under the impact, the pain sharp and stinging, and so concentrated it makes you clench around the unyielding object stuck in your cunt, which hurts even more as your muscles can't really get it to move. Your head is spinning, hanging loosely off the table, all the blood that's not pulsing under your bruised skin rushing into it, your limbs twitch with the aftershocks. Another blow hits the same spot, and the pain burns through you like wildfire, igniting every single nerve. You howl hopelessly, your sphincter positively aflame by now.

A third blow lands on it, sending another shock wave through your body, this one accompanied by a sudden motion in your cunt as the paddle is being pulled out slightly, only to be shoved back in with force, hard, unrelenting, parting your soft flesh, sinking deep, poking your furthest point with agonizing precision. Your noises bleed into muffled whines and grunts and cries, your body overwhelmed by all the different sensations. You feel even more lightheaded and breathless as the motion repeats, quicker and quicker, rapid sawing motions of an object that wasn't designed to fit into a human like this.

Add to that the throbbing pain in your asshole, and you find yourself on the verge of fainting all over again. But amidst the searing pain, a bubble of something hot grows bigger, expanding inside you, easing your nerves, your muscles, and for a moment it feels good, good enough for your whines to morph into moans, your body shuddering under the assault of sensations, and as it reaches its peak, when your back arches and your eyes roll back, when your hips stutter and your cunt flutters around the object plunging in and out, you find yourself floating, frozen in time and space for a few seconds as pure bliss explodes around you like fireworks.

With your mind filled with burning cotton that takes over everything, the aches of your body barely register, they're just a faint thrumming, throbbing, stinging, a numbing pain that doesn't matter as you ride your high – and when the paddle is pulled from your depths, a last impossible stretch, you think it's finally over, you can finally sink into the void, but luck is not on your side.

Something else replaced the rigid object, something warmer, a bit softer, and it slips into your cunt with ease, making you groan, your muscles clenching around it. And just as you slowly come down from your high, the thing inside you starts moving, and you feel it, its shape, its strength, what its attached to.

At first it's a gentle pushing and pulling, a barely there back and forth motion, before it begins to pummel your insides with not so gentle bumps, internal little nudges that stretch your walls, and you realize it's a hand, its knuckles dragging over your soft flesh, your depths molding into its shape as it pushes and pushes, a literal fist giving your cervix tiny little punches.

And the more it moves, the stranger it all feels, the rougher its movements, bigger swings, deeper pushes, and all you can do is squirm on the table, struggle against your restraints, howl into your gag, your body convulsing erratically as the fist keeps pummeling into your depths with force and vigor, eager to push you over the edge all over again.

Pain and pleasure melt together into a whirlwind of sensations, leaving you breathless and lightheaded, crying and groaning, moaning and wailing, until you lose all control over your limbs and muscles as they twitch and spasm, and your core weeps, your wetness squelching out with every plunge of the hand. It changes form then, gets thinner, pointier, still hacking away inside of you, unrelenting, bullying all those sensitive spots that give yet another layer to the strange mixture of pain and pleasure.

You can barely breathe, barely function, and it all ends when the fist is being pulled from your tightening walls with a sudden tug, leaving you gaping, your muscles clenching in confusion, but the heat just shoots out of you in erratic spasms, as you groan and grunt and moan into your gag, head spinning, body just twitching, no longer yours.

Before you can fall into nothingness, however, you hear a set of footsteps, then two hands grab your face, one is wet and warm, the other almost cool in contrast. A soothing shushing sound comes to your ears, and you blink your eyes into focus, or you try, everything's blurry, there's a thrumming ache all around you, mixed with an overwhelming feeling of weightlessness. The leather strap around your head is loosened, relieving the strain on your jaw as the gag falls away, allowing a little river of drool to leave your mouth. The hands are back to wipe at it, clean your chin and your trembling lips.

“My good girl,” you hear Mistress' velvety voice close to you as she leans her forehead against yours, crouched before you as she is, and you blink again, trying to see her pretty face, her deep eyes, and the first thing you do see is the smile on her full lips. “You've been so good. Look at you, you took this so well. Such a good girl,” she keeps praising you, rubbing your sweat-slick cheeks, her wet thumb brushing against your bottom lip and into your mouth, making you taste something sweet and tangy, and you realize it's your own taste. But you can barely react to it, it doesn't matter anyway. You did good, she said so, you made her proud, right?

She leans in and presses her lips to yours, a short but sweet kiss that tingles in the back of your cloudy mind. You wish you would have the strength to reply to her ministrations, but you can't really move, still stuck in a place outside of your own body, though she keeps peppering your face with gentle pecks, brushing your hair out of your forehead, caressing your jaw, cradling your head. She's so gentle, and the contrast to how she treated the rest of your body makes you shudder deeply.

Slowly you come back to yourself, your limbs itching, your butt hurting, your cunt throbbing. You let out a little groan against her lips, and she leans away, watching you. “Do you need a break, pet?” she asks quietly, and you want to tell her to stop it altogether, no breaks, breaks mean it will continue eventually, and you can't keep going like this. Everything hurts, you feel so empty and boneless. But seeing her so close to you, still feeling the tingles of her kisses, how can you say no to this woman?

“Yes, please, Mistress,” you croak out, your voice nothing more than a rasping breath spilling from your swollen lips, raw and rough from all the voiceless screaming, but she understands you all the same. She nods, caressing your cheek, before she stands up and addresses the people you completely forgot about by now.

“Ladies and gentlemen, dear guests, I thank you for your attention and participation thus far. We are taking a little break, so if you like, I invite you to grab another drink and some snacks from the buffet in the entrance hall. We will be back shortly.”

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

End notes: Well. Was the ending worth all the horrors before that? I hope so. More aftercare in the next chapter, we're through the worst, I promise! Stay tuned!

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Saturday!

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

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kornadrag · 11 months ago

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Was insanely bored so I decided to write Harley Quinn/reader enemies to lover story on Ao3. I think I’m actually gonna finish this one. Lmk how yall like it

#harley quinn x reader #gotham city sirens #girls love #reader insert #female reader #dc comics #dc universe #harley quinn #harleen quinzel #batman #bruce wayne #HarleyQuinn/reader #honestly idk #I’m bored #enimes to lovers #reader x character #x reader #dc x reader

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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 years ago

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Hello! I would like to request character match ups (romantic and platonic) for DC, Stranger Things, Marvel, Wednesday, and Harry Potter.

I use she/her pronouns, I'm 16, I'm 5'6, and I'm bi. I have autism, adhd, anxiety, depression, ect lol. I have long, brown, curly hair and hazel eyes. I'm an ambivert, I'm adventurous, funny, quirky, and quick-witted. I love to read, write, knit, play board and video games, sing and play instruments, and I roller skate. Some facts about me are; my favorite color is green, my favorite foods are sushi and tacos and Americone dream icecream, I often drink sparkling water, I love style (I wear tons of bright colors and am feminine), I love pop music (artists like Charlie Puth, Rihanna, MARINA, Faouzia), I love comic books, I collect DC figures, and I used to do gymnastics.

Thank you so much for even reading this!! If it's too much, I understand! I really enjoy your work and I hope you never stop as long as it makes you happy! 😁 ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Heeey! Woooowie this is a long boi! Thank you so much for requesting a lot of matchups!!! I am so excited about all of these!! I hope you enjoy them! <333

Platonic -

DC;

Harley Quinn:

🎠 You met Harley by accident, you tried to pickpocket her and she may or may not have caught you... But, she loved your style so she let you off the hook

🎠 You bumped into her a lot during your days wandering the streets of Gotham, Harley would rush up to you to say 'hi' or to compliment your outfit of the day; even one day asking if you wanted to join her for some "shopping"

🎠 Soon enough, you and Harley became best friends, going around Gotham and causing havoc or just watching Saturday morning cartoons

🎠 You'd cheer her on at the roller derby, wearing a jersey with her name on it; you are her biggest fan

🎠 You and Harley would gift each other things, such as clothes or random gifts that you both had "bought"; you would even knit her scarves when the Gotham snow began to fall

🎠 Harley even showed you the funhouse, and you had fun exploring the entire place; even playing hide-and-seek with Harley and Cassandra

🎠 Bruce the hyena absolutely adores you, sitting beside you in Harley's car and nuzzling your cheek; sometimes he even steals your food, so be on alert when you have your tacos or ice cream on hand

🎠 Sometimes when Harley meets up with the Birds of Prey, you get to come with, meeting Huntress, Canary, and Montoya; they were all really nice and even showed you a trick or two

🎠 Harley wanted to make sure that you stayed safe on the streets of Gotham, so she taught you how to defend yourself, even helping you learn some of her moves

🎠 You are so glad that you have a friend like Harley

Stranger Things;

Will Byers:

🎨 You met Will in high school, sharing a couple classes with the shy and timid boy

🎨 You saw that he was recently new, along with another girl that he knew, you assumed his sister? Anyway, you offered the two to sit at your table with you

🎨 You found out the boy's name was Will, and later you found out that he liked art, D&D, and comic books; he was in luck because you liked most of that stuff too

🎨 Soon enough, you'd invite Will over to your house, play board games together, watch Ghostbusters together, and even try making a pie together; he quickly became your best friend

🎨 You even tried to help Will when his friend Mike came into town for Spring break, you realized something was going on between the two and you tried to make sure Will was alright, but you couldn't always be there

🎨 You did spend a lot of time with Will, El, and their friend Mike, even going to roller skating rinks where you saw just how... Depressed Will was; with Mike and El skating together, Will was the third wheel

🎨 Will was grateful for you though, knowing that you were a true friend, helping him with his feelings and any other issues he may have been having; not only were you a great shoulder to cry on, you were an amazing friend

🎨 You didn't know how it happened, but you were sucked up in the drama of Will, El, and Mike's past, leading to Will explaining everything to you; even when Mike thought it wasn't a good idea

🎨 Through everything, you stayed by Will's side, making him smile when he felt down and hugging him when he needed one

🎨 You are a great friend, and Will is glad he met you; you really showed him that there is kindness in the world

Marvel;

MJ:

🕷 You knew MJ since you were a kid, living pretty close to her and playing at the nearby park with her when you were younger

🕷 You immediately became friends, going everywhere together, parks, to get ice cream, school (it's a given), and even having sleepovers almost every night

🕷 When you both got old enough to go out on your own, the two of you would go to small shops and get tacos or even some sparkling water; before going to the park to eat and chat

🕷 Entering high school, you both stuck together as much as you could, sharing a class or two and eating together at lunch with Ned and Peter

🕷 You found out about MJ's "little" crush on Peter wayyy before she said anything, you could see it in her eyes and the way she spoke to him

🕷 You'd come to her place and vice versa to work on homework, even splitting homework in half to work on each part separately to save time; you'd both listen to music, such as Charlie Puth and Rihanna as you worked, both of you bobbing your heads to the beat

🕷 MJ loves to tease you if you ever get a crush on someone or if you do something funny, but if she goes too far, she is quick to apologize

🕷 Sometimes during "girls' night" at each either's place, you would both watch compilations of Spider-Man sightings, Batman The Animated Series, and even a bit of reality tv

🕷 Sometimes if you and MJ fight, it's not for long and both of you apologize for whatever happened less than a day later, whether that be she forgot to return that shirt she borrowed or if you accidentally used her favorite pencil (fun things like that)

🕷 You and MJ are two peas in a pod, best friends since your early life, and you both couldn't ask for a better friend

Wednesday;

Wednesday:

🖤 You were friends with Enid when you met Wednesday after she transferred over to your school

🖤 Though you are a bit anxious with people sometimes, you go over and introduce yourself to her, saying ‘hello’ or whatever you feel like doing; she doesn't know what to think of you at first, but she slowly warms up to you

🖤 You both talk about sports, you ranting about your gymnastic days and Wednesday speaks about her fencing; though you have a few clashing hobbies and lives, you both get along well with one another

🖤 Wednesday even tries to teach you how to shoot a bow and arrow, and you try to show a pretty uninterested Wednesday how to make sushi; she humors you and eats it

🖤 When going out together around town, you passed some girls scouts, and you bought a few cookies, and you'd never forget the conversation Wednesday had with the girl scouts; it lives rent-free in your mind

🖤 Though Wednesday is pretty 'lone wolf' and again, uninterested in anything but the Bermuda Triangle, she'll very rarely do things with you like… Roller skating; she hates video games, but she'll play them after a while of you asking her

🖤 You even give her gifts, like knitted scarves and sweaters, always black or a dark gray; Wednesday would take the gift, a frown on her face, but you knew she liked the gifts

🖤 You and her really bonded with instruments, she'd play the cello while you played your favorite instrument, and you'd play together in perfect harmony; and sometimes, rarely, you'd goof around and have a music battle

🖤 You'd notice how close Wednesday and Enid are, a little mischievous thought popping up in your head; you were tempted to try and get the two together, even trying to convince Wednesday that those boys she hung out with were rude, but she is as stubborn as ever

🖤 Nonetheless, you two are great friends, and you're always there to "bother" Wednesday when Enid's not there

Harry Potter;

Luna Lovegood:

🦋 You met Luna at Hogwarts, sitting beside her on the train in both of your first years; during however long the ride was, the two of you bonded, both of you being strange and peculiar

🦋 You are both really, really smart and love reading books and learning about new things; Luna loves to help you learn new things and you love helping her if she (rarely) has trouble with a spell or potion

🦋 You have both gotten good marks in each of your subjects, you’re very good at Herbology (you love it) and you’ve got pretty amazing Transfiguration skills; you could probably be an Auror or Healer one day, though you’d love to work with animals or dragons

🦋 You sometimes felt out of place in Hogwarts, but Luna always made you feel better because she was also sort of an outcast, but you were outcasts together

🦋 Because of her friendship with Harry Potter, Ron, and Hermione, you quickly become friends with them too; even falling for a prank or two from the Weasley twins

🦋 Luna always makes sure that if you have been pranked by the twins, you prank them back, even though she is very peaceful and sweet, she will give you tips if needed; and when they magicked your hair a disgusting color, she thought it was fair that you do the same back (let's just say, Fred and George had red and blue hair respectively for the next week)

🦋 Your parents on year, for the holidays, bought you roller skates and you let Luna use them, helping her down the sidewalk as she held onto your arm; in a matter of minutes she could spin in circles and skate backward, (you felt really proud)

🦋 You show Luna some of your favorite music, comic books, and even your favorite figures you collected over the years; Luna always found them fascinating

🦋 She is super excited and happy for you when you get your Animagus, a turtle; and you are proud when you see her Animagus rabbit hop in the air

🦋 Luna is your best friend and you could ask for no other, she is your rock, someone you could always go to; you are the friend that Luna had been asking for, and you make her happy

Romantic -

DC;

Billy Batson:

⚡ You went to the same school as Billy when he transferred to it, and man, you really fell hard

⚡ You had been friends with Freddy beforehand and when he introduced Billy as his brother... Well, you were in shock; (and in love)

⚡ You thought Billy was super cute, (emphasis on his dimples), noticing he was kind and really charming; a perfect gentleman towards you

⚡ Freddy teases Billy when he noticed that he likes you, and tries time and time again to get Billy to tell you how he feels; it takes him a while, but he does confess, after saving your life *cough couch*

⚡ You almost died, figuratively, when you found out Billy was Shazam; you were highly impressed, (though a bit jealous, you really wanted powers too)

⚡ After the... Seven Deadly Sins event, Billy finally asked you out for ice cream, but no, not at a shop or even an ice cream shop, but at 711; he got a small pint of chocolate and you got Americone Dream

⚡ You and Billy go on other dates, holding hands while roller skating (Billy is terrible at it), playing board games with him and the rest of his family, and even reading comic books together; your first kiss is you beat him at Mario Kart

⚡ Darla likes to thank you for making Billy 'nicer', usually within the hearing range of Billy himself (Darla is secretly your boyfriend's wingman, giving him advice, when he sometimes needed it)

⚡ You just love to make Billy blush, hugging him, complimenting him, running your fingers through his hair; his face gets so pink, but don't think he won't get revenge

⚡ You and Billy are the perfect match, Billy just can't get enough of you, and you can't get enough of him; he is the lightning to your thunder

Stranger Things;

Max Mayfield:

🛹 You met Max when she was skating home on her skateboard and you were skating on the sidewalk in your roller skates

🛹 When you saw her flaming red hair, and shades on her nose, yeah... It was love at first sight; you literally did a double take

🛹 Thankfully, for you, she was single; you approached her at school, and that was when your friendship and the later relationship bloomed

🛹 You'd join her and El for sleepovers, reading magazines and comics, and listening to music; it was a blast

🛹 It took a while but you both confessed after getting ice cream at Scoops; it was nonchalant, as if it was an everyday conversation, though you both were blushing madly

🛹 You'd go on dates to the mall, make your own fashion shows, eat ice cream at Scoops, and skate side by side, hand in hand down the sidewalk; with each other, the two of you were on cloud nine

🛹 On rainy days, you and Max would stay in and watch movies like The Breakfast Club or Back To The Future; sharing buttery popcorn and chocolatey candy

🛹 After the end of Billy and the mall, you comforted Max as much as you could, knowing how broken she was; you held her tight as she cried

🛹 After Vecna, and somehow saving Max, you'd stay with her as much as you could, she only had some injuries but you hardly left the hospital, until your parents made you; you held her hand the entire time

🛹 You both make each other better, you make Max laugh and smile; Max is your rock, your anchor, and your heart

Marvel;

Francis Barton:

🎯 You were part of the team when you met Francis; at first, you thought he was pretty rude

🎯 Francis was a bit hesitant towards you, and being your friend in general, but after a while, he warmed up to you

🎯 He warmed up to the point that he goofed around with you to a point, but overall he was his cocky and confident self

🎯 He'd confess his feelings to you though, though a bit shy, which you thought was cute; in the end, you began dating

🎯 Francis would try and teach you archery, helping you load the bow and shoot the arrow; you got the bullseye first try earning a kiss on the cheek

🎯 You are pretty quick-witted so sometimes you and Francis butt heads on certain mission plans, but you always make up in the end

🎯 He likes to listen to music too sometimes and secretly likes when you show him your favorite bands, singers, and songs

🎯 If you are ever feeling down, Francis will do his best in trying to make you feel better again, playing games with you, drawing with you, or even just talking to you; sometimes just him being there next to you helps you

🎯 You both like to swap comics, recommending certain ones and talking about them after you both read them; he really likes your DC ones

🎯 You and Francis, a match made in heaven, or cupid ;) (you and Francis are the best couple, always there for one another and making sure the other is feeling loved)

Wednesday;

Ajax Petropolus:

🐍 You had known Ajax in school, having a few classes with him and such

🐍 You first notice, besides his handsome features, that he is pretty shy, so you don't approach him at first; coming up with a game plan so you don't spook him

🐍 He's not really good at talking to others, having been told not to engage with people because of his powers, but he really liked you and really wanted to talk to you; so he does

🐍 You were surprised when he approached you, he was pretty quiet, but after a bit, he finally asks you if you want to get ice cream; of course, you say 'yes'

🐍 On your little ice cream date, he mentions that he doesn't want to scare you away and that he really likes you, but he is worried about his powers; you reassure him that you are not afraid, that you trust him; his love for you grows even more

🐍 Even though he is slightly taller than you, you help him roller skate on your second date; holding his hands as you skated backward, giving him words of affirmation as she wobbled like a baby deer

🐍 Really though, Ajax is a gentle shy giant, but with you, he feels more confident with you; he finds you incredibly beautiful, brilliant, and super funny

🐍 On one date, later in time, you introduce him to sparkling water, he tries it, he hates it, but he loves the smile on your face when he makes a face at the odd taste

🐍 Ajax introduces you to some of his favorite shows, and you do the same; cuddling together as you eat popcorn and pizza

🐍 Ajax loves you, wholly and completely, you are his best friend, his love, and his world

Harry Potter;

James Potter:

🕶 You had known of James all throughout your years in Hogwarts, sharing classes with him along with having heard of his pranks with Sirius Black and frowning upon his bullying of Severus; at first, you didn't really care for him, but that changed

🕶 You watched him from afar for the first couple of years, but one time when you were in the courtyard, reading, he came over to talk to you

🕶 You were hesitant, as well as a bit nervous, and you were thankful that he came to you instead of vice versa; surprisingly, the conversation went swimmingly like a fish in water

🕶 You had thought after that day that maybe you had embarrassed yourself to the point that James would never speak to you ever again, but he surprised you again by stopping you when you were at Hogsmeade; you couldn't even believe your luck when he asked if you wanted to go to join him

🕶 You were a bit worried that James was only talking to you because of a prank or dare, but when James looked at you with those eyes of his... You felt incredibly special

🕶 James took you to get Butterbeer where you spoke about your favorite classes, hobbies, and foods; that's when James confessed, somewhat awkwardly, (he was trying to be nonchalant about it really), that he wanted to ask you out for a while, ever since fourth year

🕶 It didn't take long for the two of you to start dating, and James just loved you, almost clingy as he had his arm around your shoulders all the time, everyone in Hogwarts knew you were a couple

🕶 After graduating from Hogwarts, both you and James found a nice quiet cottage near a lake where you and James spent most of your time; your time together was spent reading, hanging out with the other Marauders, and dancing in the kitchen together

🕶 James always makes sure that you know that he loves you, everyday he would tell you how wonderful and beautiful you are; he'd shout it on the top of your cottage roof if he had to, and he did once; you flushed madly at that

🕶 You were so happy that you were reading in the courtyard, and you were so happy that James came up to you; you love James so much and you can not wait for the years to come

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